But there is a merciful and compassionate God in this world, and He displays His great wonders and makes summer into winter for me, lifts me up and casts me down. He says to me: “Tevye, don’t start thinking like a fool. Let the world run itself the way it will!”
Listen to what can happen in this great world. And who do you think has all the luck? Tevye shlimazel.
To make a long story short — why should I fill your ear? — you probably remember what happened to me with my cousin Menachem-Mendl, how nicely he worked out our business in Yehupetz, investing in all those stocks and shares and gold imperials, may his name and memory be obliterated. I lost everything, may it happen to all my enemies. I was sure it was the end of Tevye and his dairy business! I was really downhearted.
“You fool!” my wife said to me. “Enough moping! It won’t do you any good! You’ll just eat your heart out, so enough! Tell yourself it’s as if robbers attacked us and took the money. Why don’t you go for a little ride to Anatevka, to Lazer-Wolf the butcher? He wants to talk to you about something.”
“He wants to talk to me? If he thinks he’s buying our milk cow, he might as well take a stick and knock that idea out of his head.”
“What’s so wonderful about our milk cow?” she said. “Is it for all the milk we get from her and the cheese and butter?”
“No,” I said, “just the idea of it. It’s a shame to sell her to be slaughtered, a pity on a living creature. It is written in the sacred Torah—”
“Oh, enough with the Torah, Tevye! Everybody knows you’re a man of the Torah. Listen to me, your wife. Go over to Lazer-Wolf’s. Every Thursday,” she said, “when our Tzeitl goes to his shop for meat, he doesn’t leave her alone. ‘Tell your father,’ he says, ‘to come see me. It’s important that I talk to him.’ ”
Well, sometimes you have to listen to a wife. So I let myself be talked into it and went to Lazer-Wolf’s in Anatevka, three versts from us, but didn’t find him at home. “Where is he?” I asked a snub-nosed woman who was bustling about the house. “He’s in the slaughterhouse,” she said. “They’re slaughtering an ox since early this morning. He’ll be back soon.” I wandered around the house and admired Lazer-Wolf’s household—kayn eyn horeh, may all my loved ones have the like: a cupboard full of copperware you couldn’t buy for a hundred and fifty rubles, a samovar and another samovar, a brass tray and another one from Warsaw, a pair of silver candlesticks, many gold-rimmed glasses, a wrought-iron Chanukah lamp, and much porcelain bric-a-brac. My God! I thought, wishing my children could live like this. What a lucky man this butcher was! Not only was he rich, but his two children were married, and he was a widower into the bargain!
Finally the door opened, and an angry Lazer-Wolf came in, furious at the shochet, the ritual slaughterer. He had ruined him. He had declared an ox that was the size of an oak to be unkosher, after finding a tiny scar on the animal’s lung the size of a pinhead — may he have a stroke, may he sink into the earth! “God Almighty, Reb Tevye,” he said to me, “how come it’s so hard to reach you? How are you?”
“How can I be?” I said. “I do and I do, and I’m still just beginning to get somewhere. As it says in the Torah, Neither Thy sting nor Thy honey—no money, no health, barely keeping life and limb together.”
“You sin, Reb Tevye,” he said to me. “Compared to the way you once were, may it never happen again, you are now, kayn eyn horeh, a rich man.”
“What I still need to be a rich man,” I said, “may we both have. But never mind, I thank God for what I do have. There is a saying in the Gemorah: Neither from Your sting nor from Your honey.” But in my heart I was thinking, You should live so long if you think there’s a phrase like that in the Gemorah, my fine butcher boy.
“You’re always there with a quote from the Gemorah,” he said to me. “Good for you, Reb Tevye, that you can read all that small print. But why waste time on all this learning and these quotations? Better let us talk about our business at hand. Sit, Reb Tevye,” he said, then yelled out, “Let’s have tea!” The snub-nosed woman appeared from nowhere, grabbed the samovar, and disappeared into the kitchen. “Now that we’re alone,” he said, “just the two of us, we can get down to business. This is the way it is: I have wanted to talk to you, Reb Tevye, for a long time now. I have asked your daughter many times to tell you, if you would be so kind to come talk to me. You understand I have had my eye on—”
“I know that you’ve had your eye on her, but it won’t work,” I said, “it won’t work, Reb Lazer-Wolf, it won’t work!”
“Why not?” He looked surprised.
“I have time to wait,” I said. “Where’s the fire?”
“Why should you wait,” he said, “when we can work things out right now?”
“I just gave you a reason. Second of all,” I said, “it’s simply a shame, a pity on a living creature.”
“Look at you putting on airs.” Lazer-Wolf gave a little laugh. “Someone would swear she was your only one! I imagine you have, kayn eyn horeh, enough, Reb Tevye!”
“Let those who envy me not have anything themselves,” I quoted.
“Envy? Who’s talking of envy?” he said. “On the contrary, it’s because she is so attractive, that’s the reason I want her, do you understand? Don’t forget, Reb Tevye, the advantage that could come out of this for you!”
“Sure, sure,” I said, “I know your favors, Reb Lazer-Wolf. You give ice in winter. We all know about that from before.”
“Eh! Why are you comparing then and now?” he said, as sweet as sugar. “Then was one story, but today is a different one. We’re practically in-laws, ha?”
“In-laws?” I said, surprised.
“Yes, in-laws!”
“What do you mean?” I said. “Reb Lazer-Wolf, what are we talking about?”
“On the contrary,” he said, “you tell me, Reb Tevye, what we’re talking about.”
“What else?” I said. “We’re talking about the milk cow you want to buy from me!”
“Ha ha ha!” he broke out laughing. “That’s some cow and a milk cow into the bargain, ha ha ha!”
“What, then, were you thinking, Reb Lazer-Wolf? Tell me so I can laugh too.”
“About your daughter!” he said to me. “I was speaking about your Tzeitl all this time! You know, Reb Tevye, I am a widower, may it not happen to you. I thought it over and decided, Why should I look elsewhere for a wife, bother with matchmakers and all that? After all, here we both are. I know you, you know me. And I’ve also taken to her. I see her every Thursday in the butcher shop, I’ve spoken with her several times, and she seems a quiet girl, not bad at all. I myself am, kayn eyn horeh, as you see, a bit of a success. I own my house, a few stores, and nice furnishings, as you can see, not to complain. I have some hides in the attic and money in the chest. Why should we have to haggle like gypsies? Let’s shake hands on it, one two three, do you get my meaning?”
Well, once he explained what he had in mind, I was speechless at the unexpected news. At first I thought, Lazer-Wolf? Tzeitl? He has children her age. But then I reminded myself that it was a stroke of luck for her. A stroke of luck! She would have everything she wanted! So he wasn’t the most generous man. Nowadays that wasn’t the greatest virtue. As the rabbis said: A man is dearest to his own self—if you were good to others, you were bad to yourself. He had one fault — he was somewhat common. Oh well, could everyone be a scholar? There were plenty of rich folks, fine people in Anatevka, in Mazepevka, and even in Yehupetz who didn’t know one letter from another. Still and all, if it was destined, that wouldn’t keep them from getting plenty of respect. As it is written: If there is no flour in the bin, there is no Torah— which means, the Torah lies in the chest, and wisdom in the purse.